


Temporary Love

by obsessedbutonline



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, College, College Student Stiles Stilinski, Deputy Derek Hale, Derek Hale is a Softie, Family, Family Fluff, Human, I'm Bad At Tagging, M/M, Misunderstandings, Stiles Stilinski Returns, Stiles Stilinski's Jeep's Name is Roscoe
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-01
Updated: 2020-04-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 18:28:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,087
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23421700
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/obsessedbutonline/pseuds/obsessedbutonline
Summary: From the prompt:Stiles’ Babcia (grandmother) is fiercely independent and lives in an apartment in Beacon Hills and Stiles used to go over on the weekends and run errands for her. But then Stiles goes to college and can’t make it home as much as he likes, and when he does go home he goes straight to Babcia’s apartment ready to do her bidding and she’s like, “Oh, no, Słoneczko, that nice boy Derek down the hall already got my groceries and fixed my sink…”And Stiles gets really jealous of this Derek guy, but Derek works weekends (Deputy!Derek FTW) so they never actually meet. Stiles nurses this simmering rage that some interloper is bogarting his grandmother. In the meantime Derek is just soaking up the family feels and becoming more and more enamoured of the elusive Mieczysław that babcia keeps showing him pictures of and telling him stories about, “the most handsome, brilliant, caring young boy you could ever meet…”-dr.girlfriend on tumblr
Relationships: Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Sheriff Stilinski & Stiles Stilinski
Comments: 15
Kudos: 85





	1. The Best Grandson

**Author's Note:**

  * For [dr_girlfriend](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dr_girlfriend/gifts).



Shoving a half-eaten bagel into his mouth, Stiles balanced his phone on the counter, groaning in annoyance as a poorly timed buzz sent it falling onto the floor with a worryingly loud thud. 

Hastily chewing the remnants of the bagel, he grabbed for his phone and squinted at the screen. It was lit up, the caller ID flashing. Stiles pressed to answer. 

"Hey, pops,"

"Stiles," His dad's voice answered, slightly distorted, but still filling him with a sense of familiarity. 

Deeming that the previous balancing act was ineffective, Stiles laid the phone flat on the counter as he propped himself up against the door frame next to it.

"Are you eating? At least wait 'till you've finished before speaking, mały Lis!" A quieter, female voice filtered down the line, making Stiles raise his eyebrows in amused disbelief.

"Babcia?" He asked, smiling as her tinny voice spoke over his dads. He imagined the pair- his dad at the kitchen table, holding the phone away from his disgruntled babcia as she nursed a cup of sweet tea.

Looking down at his cup, he grimaced at the brown sludge that had the indecency to call itself coffee. He poured it down the sink as his attention was turned back to the phone.

"-When are you coming back for the winter, kochanie? It's been too long since I saw you,"

Rinsing out the cup, Stiles smiled. "I'm leaving next week- I'll be there after my exams," He explained, peering over at the heaps of paper with disdain. "Has dad been looking after you?"

"I-" His dad was quick to reply, before the shrewd voice of his babcia cut over him.

"He visits me sometimes, though I think he's getting bored of playing slapjack with me," 

"You play it with Derek!"

Stiles snorted, amused as the two seemingly forgot about the call, instead, bickering between themselves. Wait- Derek?

"Who's Derek?" He interrupted, narrowing his eyes as he scrubbed the coffee-stained mug with a vengeance. The end of the line went suspiciously silent. “Babcia?” He asked, pausing his scrubbing to squint at the phone.

“He’s a young man who lives a few doors down from me, I told you about him last time you visited, remember? It’s been a while since I saw you though, so no wonder you’ve forgotten,” Her voice filtered over the line, along with the small traces of disapproval, making a prick of guilt settle into Stiles’s stomach. 

“Yeah, I deserved that one,” He grimaced, returning to the task of cleaning his coffee cup. He racked his brain to see if he remembered a mention of any Derek characters, but nothing came up. “Derek,” He scoffed, rolling his eyes, “-what kind of a name is Derek?”

A pointed cough came over the line, the sound enough to make Stiles shrug in defence. “Derek’s a new officer at the station,” His dad said, words drawn out to sound over-obvious.

“I would remember that, Pops,” 

“You were too busy debating whether Socrates or Plato would win in a rap battle.”

“Oh,” Stiles paused, contemplating the words. When the memory failed to enter his mind, he gave up on it. “I still stand by the fact that Plato would win.” 

“I’m hanging up now.”

Scrambling to pick up the phone, Stiles cursed, before holding the phone away in the hope that his dad hadn’t heard.

“Language.”

No such hope. “Sorry- I’ll call you when I’m driving into Beacon Hills, okay?” Stiles settled on, staring at the pile of papers again- the one barrier between him and Beacon Hills.

“Sure, drive safe, kiddo.”

“You know it, I wouldn’t hurt Roscoe like that,”

“Get a new car, Mieczysław!” Another voice cut over his dads.

“Love you too, Babcia,” Stiles said cheerfully, well aware what her opinions on him driving around in the deathtrap of the old Jeep were. “See you soon- and you too, dad, bye!” He waited until he heard their farewells, then hung up the phone and flopped onto the couch, only slightly grimacing at the overwhelming smell of instant noodles emanating from the cushions. College was getting old. 

Later on, that night, as he was just slipping into a light sleep, the alarm blinking 3:29, he felt a light buzz as his phone lit up. Stiles grasped blindly for the phone, letting out a curse as he knocked it off the side table. When he finally managed to find the phone, he let out a disgruntled sigh and squinted at the screen. A text from his dad. It was a photo of his Babcia, frozen in motion as she worked at a canvas. The canvas was half-finished, sweeping arcs of colour which formed the vague outline of a face. 

Swiping away from the picture, Stiles saw the lone text his dad had sent. It gave the painting a title: “Derek.” Stiles let out a scoff and dropped his phone back onto the side table.

Of course, it’s Derek, he thought bitterly, already feeling a sense of rivalry with the faceless gentleman who’d been helping his Babcia as Stiles had neglected her. Settling back into his pillow with a scowl of determination, Stiles plotted exactly how his month in Beacon Hills would be spent. He’d treat the hell out of his Babcia, dammit! 

“I’m better than this Derek,” He muttered, half asleep. “What kind of a name is Derek anyway?” Slipping off into sleep, Stiles’ mind drifted from half-painted faces and to his Babcia, and how he’d win her back with plans of baked goods and painting sessions.

Tomorrow, when he returned to Beacon Hills, he'd be the best damn grandson his Babcia could ever need!


	2. You jump the wall, I'll find a place to park.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stiles packs his bags and sets off for Beacon Hills.

Letting out a sigh, Stiles cracked an eye open and looked at the sunlight filtering through the half-drawn curtain- and then at his piled bags by the door. Scrubbing a hand through his hair as he sat up, his thoughts strayed back to his return to Beacon Hills for the four week holiday. 

It was time for the Thanksgiving break- when the Stillinskis and the McCalls- and recently, Isaac, the stray kid they'd picked up along the way- got together for a loud meal filled with delicacies baked by Melissa and Stiles, and any other dishes anyone else had prepared. Stiles loved it with a passion.

The noise of the city filtered in through the thin walls of the dorm and was disturbed occasionally by the light snores coming from the figure swathed in blankets on the other side of the room. Stiles rolled his eyes, a small grin on his face as he watched his roommate slumber peacefully. The noise made him think back to his house in Beacon Hills- the posters half-falling off of the walls and the dents lovingly adorning the furniture, but most of all, the _silence_. College was great, but nothing could compare to the solitary lifestyle of his own room.

The morning passed quickly- he began by slathering a thick layer of peanut butter on an only slightly burnt piece of toast in and hastily made the small, single bed he'd been occupying for the last few months of college look presentable. 

Handing in the stack of coursework and essays took a few hours as he trekked across campus to return the work to his various teachers. Readjusting the straps of his backpack, he grimaced and rubbed the indents they'd left in his shoulders, then opened the door to his room with an air of finality.

With the final bits of work handed in, Stiles ticked them off of his mental list and headed for the pile of bags piled next to the door, after shooting a text to his dad.

**_Stiles (11:24): putting my bags in roscoe now (:_ **

**_Dad (11:25): Stiles...there are so many better ways to word that...see you in a few hours, though?_ **

**_Stiles (11:27): ur the one who interpreted it like that....and yea see ya soon pops_ **

**_Dad (11:29): ....._ **

Stiles chuckled as he pocketed his phone, a warmth creeping into his stomach as he imagined his dad rolling his eyes at the phone before typing out his response.

Hefting the duffle bag over one shoulder, and the stuffed backpack over the other, he opened the door with difficulty and stumbled down the three flights of stairs, not willing to wait for the highly unreliable elevator.

Two trips later, and he had packed all of his belongings into the back of the jeep, and now stood in the doorway, his face red from the exertion of hefting the bags down the stairs. But there was _no_ way that he'd take the elevator. A few minutes passed as he stood looking at his side of the room. The bedsheets were wrinkled, but he decided to leave it because he'd probably just wash the sheets when he got back from Beacon Hills. Right? Probably not. Stiles pushed the thought to the back of the mind and focused on the issues at hand.

The snores continued to emanate from his roommate, who turned over with a huff, before falling back asleep. Stiles walked over, giving him a gentle shove on his shoulder. The figure snorted, jerking awake and fixing Stiles with a confused stare.

"Hey, dude," His eyes strayed to the other side of the room, and a look of understanding dawned on his face. "-are you leaving?" 

Stiles snorted, before nodding. "Yep, sure am, don't destroy my side of the room whilst I'm gone, ok? He said, prodding the figure again when his eyes started to slip closed. He jerked awake, blinking a few times in confusion before he nodded. "Bye, dude," Stiles said, getting up from beside the bed and turning to the door.

Just as he reached for the door, the voice of his roommate spoke up again. "Stiles?" 

Stiles turned, an eyebrow raised. "Yeah?"

"Can I store my bong under your mattress while you're gone?"

A beat of silence reigned over the two, the figure in bed looking at Stiles expectantly. Stiles looked at him wordlessly, before shrugging. "Uh, yeah, sure man, see you in a month," The figure closed his eyes, giving Stiles a salute, and promptly, the conversation was over.

Stiles turned and left the room, the door shutting behind him with a click as he walked down the corridor of the dorm and towards the staircase.

"Can I store my bong under your mattress..." Stiles repeated under his breath, the memory making him laugh as he jogged down the stairs.

A girl walked up the stairs, towards him, giving him a wide berth as she gave him a confused look. Stiles shrugged, giving her an apologetic grin. "Not you," He said, jingling the keys of the jeep around his finger. The girl passed without a word. _College_ , he thought. _She can make her own assumptions._

Leaving the dorm, he headed for the parking lot, humming under his breath as he walked over to the jeep. Jiggling the key into the lock, he let out a groan as the lock stuck- taking more precious minutes of his time to open. He finally sat down in the driver's seat and put the key into the ignition, humming along to the crackly singing filtering through from the radio.

The drive from San Francisco University to Beacon Hills took just over three hours- one of the reasons that Stiles had picked it, and he congratulated former him for making the decision. Cranking up the volume on the radio, he eased onto the highway and sat back in his seat. 

The horizon was clear, a few clouds marring the otherwise large expanse of clear blue sky. Letting his thoughts drift back to Beacon Hils, Stiles frowned. The rush of the morning had made him forget about the new deputy, _Derek_ , marauding his Babcia. Well _it wouldn't last_ , he theorised, he'd come back from college, ease his way back into her apartment with freshly baked bread and _chruściki_ , and she'd drop this _Derek_ easily. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> chruściki (or angel wings) is a traditional sweet crisp pastry made out of dough that has been shaped into thin twisted ribbons, deep-fried and sprinkled with powdered sugar. (thanks Wikipedia!)
> 
> Whew, chapter two! sorry they're so short, but it means that I can upload them quicker, and I find that way better (: please leave a comment to let me know what you think!
> 
> chapter title is from I don't know what to say by Bring Me The Horizon (: good song. totally irrelevant, I know


	3. I wish I'd Never Found You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Derek?" Stiles demanded, finally, his voice bewildered. "-as in the new deputy, Derek?" 
> 
> The Sheriff nodded, motioning to the newspaper with an incline of his head, where Stiles spotted a small, monochrome photo of a man on the front page- of course, the arrival of the new deputy made the front page- slow news day. Grabbing at the paper, Stiles squinted at the photo of the man, who stared defiantly back with an icy glare. Stiles shook his head, refusing to let the fact that the guy was hot- ridiculously hot- sway his opinion. His dad's voice dragged him away from his thoughts.

Humming along to the obscure country song filtering through the radio, Stiles scanned the road ahead of him, already feeling a sense of familiarity settle deep into his bones. As he passed the sign welcoming him back to Beacon Hills, he let himself smile, before letting his tuneless humming increase in volume. 

He passed the streets, noting the way that nothing had changed even the slightest since his last visit with a small sense of satisfaction. The street signs were yellowed with age, the roads dusty, and the forest a constant presence at the border of the town.

Slowing as he turned into his street, he let out a whoop, hitting the worn leather of the steering wheel, and then grimacing as the horn let out a startling beep. 

Pulling into the driveway cemented his return. Turning the key in the ignition, Stiles sat back in the driver's seat for a minute, closing his eyes and letting out an exaggerated hum of relief.

Less than a minute later, a sharp tap sounded at the window, making him jump and hit his elbow on the gearstick- making him hiss out a colourful array of profanities. 

His dad watched on, a slight grin on his face as he watched in silence. Before too long, Stiles opened the car door, rubbing his elbow as he clambered out of the jeep. His face brightened- his injury forgotten- as he launched himself at his dad. 

"Hey, pops," Stiles mumbled into his dad's shoulder, who nodded wordlessly just holding on tighter.

The two stayed in the position for a few more moments, before Stiles stepped back and gave his dad a grin, looking him up and down to do the routine check for injuries. After his inspection came back with no new wrongs, he launched into the past few months of college life that his dad listened to with a sense of growing exasperation.

The two carried Stiles' bags into the house, setting them by the door and heading to the kitchen. 

"You better take them upstairs soon," John nodded at the bags piled at the door over his newspaper, making Stiles grimace. 

"Since when has this become a haven for cleanliness and tidiness?" He asked, soon jerking out of the way with a yelp when his father smacked his head with the newspaper. 

"Since your Babcia took it upon herself to do some home improvement," The Sheriff grumbled, the comment making Stiles sit up in interest.

"Oh?" He asked, "-did you let the house go that much since I saw you last?" The comment was light, but Stiles' words had an edge, knowing that both of them were remembering the extended months after his mother's death that John had spent at the bottom of a whiskey bottle- until Stiles' babcia had pulled him out. 

The Sheriff sighed, the sound resigned and heavy. He set the paper he had been reading down on the kitchen table and fixed his eyes on Stiles. "No, I didn't," His voice was low, but Stiles caught the words clearly, they were a promise. Stiles settled back into his chair and nodded slightly- since the niggling fear of his father returning to his alcohol-induced pit had been banished after his words.

A small silence reigned over the two for a minute as John returned to his paper- and Stiles headed to the fridge in search of food. Opening it and peering inside, he squinted at a casserole dish, wrapped in tin foil with a note taped to the top. Plucking it off of the top of the dish, Stiles snorted at the message written on it in scrawled cursive.

"Since it's your turn cooking dinner this Friday, this is what you're serving- your last dish was awful, so I took it upon myself to cook it so we're not poisoned- don't touch!" 

Sticking the note onto the front of the fridge, Stiles struck up a question. "Is Babcia coming over for dinner tonight?" He turned expectantly to his dad.

"Yes- apparently I'm serving casserole," He replied dryly, nodding to the fridge, making Stiles grin. 

"Has she been coming over much?"

"For dinner, a few times a week,"

Stiles nodded, finally getting up to heft his bags onto his bags and setting up the stairs. "I bet she loves being picked up by the cruiser- she wanted to make Helga jealous," He called down the stairs, setting the bags in his room with a grunt and walking back downstairs.

"Helga the neighbour?" His dad asked dubiously. Stiles nodded. Shifting in his seat, his dad looked away, before speaking again. "I don't actually pick her up," 

As he sits back in his seat, Stiles stares at his dad, his face outraged. "You let her walk here?" He demands, wide-eyed. "She's eighty-nine!"

The Sheriff shook his head vigorously. "No- well _yes,_ " Stiles lets out a huff of confusion. "Derek walks with her," His dad says quickly, defensively. 

A beat of silence follows his words, making John look cautiously at Stiles, whose movements still.

"Derek?" Stiles demanded, finally, his voice bewildered. "-as in the new deputy, Derek?" 

The Sheriff nodded, motioning to the newspaper with an incline of his head, where Stiles spotted a small, monochrome photo of a man on the front page- of _course_ , the arrival of the new deputy made the front page- slow news day. Grabbing at the paper, Stiles squinted at the photo of the man, who stared defiantly back with an icy glare. Stiles shook his head, refusing to let the fact that the guy was hot- _ridiculously hot_ \- sway his opinion. His dad's voice dragged him away from his thoughts.

"He goes to see her after his weekend shifts, I think she's made him her muse," John chuckled, making Stiles gape in outrage. 

"I think I'm being replaced..." He murmured, making his dad huff. 

The Sheriff turned to him, expression sincere as he spoke slowly as if he was speaking to a small infant. "You can share your Babcia, Stiles," 

"I'm an only child, I shouldn't have to!" He whined, fixing his dad with an expression of pure remorse, who stared back, his stare hard. A beat of silence passed, and Stiles stood up, grabbing the keys for the Jeep. "I'm gonna go visit Babcia!" He said, scrambling out of his seat and grabbing his dad in a swift hug, before bounding out the door, his dad staring, puzzled, after him.

 _"Dzieci"_ John muttered, shaking his head as the Jeep pulled out of the driveway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dzieci --> Children  
> chapter three!!! for the win!! ok sorry it took a while, but here it is!! enjoy (:  
> as always, please leave a comment with your thoughts, thanks yall <3  
> also the chapter title is from Worship by Deaf Havana!!

**Author's Note:**

> hooo boy...okay I started this months ago (if by starting, I mean "wrote 200 words then turned on Netflix") but alas!! I abandoned it until i was looking thru old fics the other day- and quarantine is the perfect opportunity to dredge up some old ideas I had, and so here we are...
> 
> thank you to dr_girlfriend for this prompt!! very much obliged, because my brain is not working so hard towards coming up with my own ideas right now (:
> 
> also on an off note...i am BEGGING you...please send me an alternate title to this damn story because creating story titles is the bane of my existence :D also the title is currently based off of the song Temporary Love by Ben Platt- and if that's not full of meaning then I don't know what is...
> 
> Okay bye!! Please leave kudos/comments because they make my day!!


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